respect, and he made her laugh.
“I’ll pay you double,” Moon Pie said, leaning back in his chair.
Bailey desperately needed the money, but she absolutely did not want to go on a road trip with Moon Pie. She did, however, want him to leave town so she could get to the cash in the safe. She thought she knew two of the three sets of numbers to the combination, but she wasn’t certain. Her mind started racing.
Maybe if I go on this trip I can get the other set out of him and steal the cash later
.
“Can I let you know tomorrow?” Bailey asked, stalling.
Moon Pie started to grin and then caught himself. “Sure.”
Bailey forced a smile, waved good-bye, and for good measure added a little extra swing in her hips.
Moon Pie quietly laughed as he watched her walk out the door. After he heard it shut, he spun his chair around to place the gold inside his safe. He had configured the interior of the Browning safe to serve his needs. Inside on the top shelf, he had six loaded semiautomatic pistols with extra loaded magazines; underneath on the left side stood three different-caliber hunting rifles he used when poaching, depending on the terrain, and two customized fully automatic black rifles he used for protection. On the right side were shelves for his purchased gold, and underneath were boxes of money.
At the moment, he had $260,000 in cash packed inside three Tony Lama boot boxes. He calculated that he’d have enough room in the safe for the duffel bag of cash he would pick up in a few days. All he had to do was take delivery, store it overnight, and then hand it off. It might be in his possession for only thirty-six to forty-eight hours. The Gold Mine’s security was adequate, and the heavy safe was against an internal wall, secured to the concrete slab with four five-inch-long wedge anchors.
Moon Pie had no worries. In front of him was a simple pickup and delivery of cash that would net him 20 percent, a great football game on ESPN on Saturday night, and a new place to poach Monday morning, when the landowner was back at work.
Life’s good and gettin’ better…particularly if Bailey decides to go with me to Alabama.
He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on his desk, lit a Marlboro Light, and smiled.
CHAPTER 17
L EVI JENKINS SAT in a Tuscaloosa, Alabama, jail wearing an orange jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up to showcase the barbed-wire tattoos on his lanky arms. He was craving a dip of Skoal. He cussed under his breath for getting caught transporting the precursors for manufacturing crystal methamphetamine. He was especially disgusted at his situation because he had the biggest drug run of his career brewing, and he didn’t need this attention. Arguing his innocence had proven useless. No one was buying the story that his church was purchasing a case of Sudafed to deliver to the needy in Haiti.
The twenty-seven-year-old neophyte drug dealer knew that his boss and half brother, Moon Pie, wouldn’t help, so he called their cousin in Tupelo, who had finally passed the bar exam on his fourth attempt. He was a classic ambulance-chasing plaintiffs’ lawyer but with a gift for being hired by clients who couldn’t pay or who were seldom offered settlements, much less awarded judgments. After two minutes of cussing and ranting about issues of jurisdiction and licensing, the lawyer finally promised to see what he could do.
Back in his cell, Levi bragged about the big stick his lawyer would wave. Levi assured his cellmates that he would beout within twenty-four hours. What Levi didn’t know was that officials within the Mississippi Drug Task Force had already put the wheels in motion to spring Levi. All that was left was the final paperwork. The rail-thin drug runner was a well-connected small fish they hoped would lead them to a large fish—a fish significantly large enough to make their careers. The Alabama counterparts just had to make it appear that Levi’s less-than-competent cousin was responsible
“I’ll pay you double,” Moon Pie said, leaning back in his chair.
Bailey desperately needed the money, but she absolutely did not want to go on a road trip with Moon Pie. She did, however, want him to leave town so she could get to the cash in the safe. She thought she knew two of the three sets of numbers to the combination, but she wasn’t certain. Her mind started racing.
Maybe if I go on this trip I can get the other set out of him and steal the cash later
.
“Can I let you know tomorrow?” Bailey asked, stalling.
Moon Pie started to grin and then caught himself. “Sure.”
Bailey forced a smile, waved good-bye, and for good measure added a little extra swing in her hips.
Moon Pie quietly laughed as he watched her walk out the door. After he heard it shut, he spun his chair around to place the gold inside his safe. He had configured the interior of the Browning safe to serve his needs. Inside on the top shelf, he had six loaded semiautomatic pistols with extra loaded magazines; underneath on the left side stood three different-caliber hunting rifles he used when poaching, depending on the terrain, and two customized fully automatic black rifles he used for protection. On the right side were shelves for his purchased gold, and underneath were boxes of money.
At the moment, he had $260,000 in cash packed inside three Tony Lama boot boxes. He calculated that he’d have enough room in the safe for the duffel bag of cash he would pick up in a few days. All he had to do was take delivery, store it overnight, and then hand it off. It might be in his possession for only thirty-six to forty-eight hours. The Gold Mine’s security was adequate, and the heavy safe was against an internal wall, secured to the concrete slab with four five-inch-long wedge anchors.
Moon Pie had no worries. In front of him was a simple pickup and delivery of cash that would net him 20 percent, a great football game on ESPN on Saturday night, and a new place to poach Monday morning, when the landowner was back at work.
Life’s good and gettin’ better…particularly if Bailey decides to go with me to Alabama.
He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on his desk, lit a Marlboro Light, and smiled.
CHAPTER 17
L EVI JENKINS SAT in a Tuscaloosa, Alabama, jail wearing an orange jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up to showcase the barbed-wire tattoos on his lanky arms. He was craving a dip of Skoal. He cussed under his breath for getting caught transporting the precursors for manufacturing crystal methamphetamine. He was especially disgusted at his situation because he had the biggest drug run of his career brewing, and he didn’t need this attention. Arguing his innocence had proven useless. No one was buying the story that his church was purchasing a case of Sudafed to deliver to the needy in Haiti.
The twenty-seven-year-old neophyte drug dealer knew that his boss and half brother, Moon Pie, wouldn’t help, so he called their cousin in Tupelo, who had finally passed the bar exam on his fourth attempt. He was a classic ambulance-chasing plaintiffs’ lawyer but with a gift for being hired by clients who couldn’t pay or who were seldom offered settlements, much less awarded judgments. After two minutes of cussing and ranting about issues of jurisdiction and licensing, the lawyer finally promised to see what he could do.
Back in his cell, Levi bragged about the big stick his lawyer would wave. Levi assured his cellmates that he would beout within twenty-four hours. What Levi didn’t know was that officials within the Mississippi Drug Task Force had already put the wheels in motion to spring Levi. All that was left was the final paperwork. The rail-thin drug runner was a well-connected small fish they hoped would lead them to a large fish—a fish significantly large enough to make their careers. The Alabama counterparts just had to make it appear that Levi’s less-than-competent cousin was responsible
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